


Kissing Death

by Saccharine_Ghosts



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, Dialogue, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Blood/Description of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7029487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saccharine_Ghosts/pseuds/Saccharine_Ghosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Canon-Verse, but Will finds out who Hannibal is earlier then expected by chance. </p><p>~~~</p><p>“You are free to do as you please, Will, but you do understand I would have to stop you if you disobeyed me.” </p><p>“Disobey like a dog disobeys by not preforming the right trick?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissing Death

**Author's Note:**

> I got influence from a prompt where Person A is already in the laundromat, and Person B walks in, clothes covered in blood.  
> Enjoy. 
> 
> As always, critiques are welcome and encouraged!

Will Graham was an FBI profiler, a teacher, boat mechanic, and pretty machine-smart. He had fixed his fridge when it was leaking, the radiator in his bedroom when it stopped last fall, so why couldn't he fix a goddamn washing machine? 

He slipped a few coins into the dryer's slot and began emptying his laundry basket into the whirring machine. He really needed some new clothes, but there was something comforting in the consistency of warm, plaid flannel and dress slacks. He turned the knob on the top of the off-white machine to the delicates setting and sat down. He let his eyes slowly focus and un-focus on the egg-shell coloured cube, guessing it was probably just about half his age, give or take. He rubbed his tired eyes and the dark bags below them, and sighed deeply. The air smelt of sweat, and dust, and cheap fabric softener, and he couldn't really think of a place he'd rather not be right now more than this one. The Laundromat was fairly close, considering he lived in the middle of nowhere, so it would suffice until he could figure out what the hell had happened to his own machine. 

He began thinking about the latest case Jack had him working on, the Chesapeake Ripper. It had stumped everybody. There was barely a motive, little-to-no evidence, and a lot of bodies. It was so rare that a killer would leave such little proof as to whom it was, but it wasn't rare that they would try to take this much time. This much time and effort without being caught usually made a serial killer lazy, but not the Chesapeake Ripper. He kept up the thought and care into each kill, but he was obviously confident. It was very probable that this killer would never be caught, or that he would come fourth about his killings because of some narcissist's urge. Nevertheless, Will didn't give up, and obviously that was taking quite a toll on him. 

Hannibal Lecter, the Jack Crawford-hired psychiatrist, had been helping him somewhat, and Will had been surprisingly cooperative when it came to their therapy sessions. Will couldn't lie to himself, there were things he noticed about Hannibal that probably took the edge off of being psychoanalyzed- his charm, his humour, his understanding, but his handsomeness definitely didn't help. If Will couldn't lie to himself about Hannibal's nature, he couldn't lie about his own. He was sure he had taken a liking to the good doctor, in more ways than one. He had never felt this way about a man before, sure in passing glance, but he fancied Hannibal in ways he couldn't have ever imagined, even with a woman. They began cooking together, Will let Hannibal draw him on more than one occasion, and they consulted many cases. Will hadn't had as close a friend as Hannibal in years, maybe not ever, and it was strange that he had opened up so fast. 

Suddenly, the air changed. He hadn't noticed the time fly by and his drying cycle stop until there was a cool rush of wind and a jangle of wind-chimes as the front door of the Laundromat opened, and the air filled with the smell of coppery blood. The very few people in the store didn't notice at first, or maybe they just didn't care- this wasn't the best part of town- but Will noticed. His time with the force and the FBI had made him sensitive, and hyper-alert in every situation. He didn't dare turn around, but he touched his gun in the holster attached to his thigh for reassurance. He stood slowly, and took a step towards the washing machines. They were loud, too loud now, and they were drowning out every sound. He slowly turned around, and blue eyes met maroon. 

All of the sudden, the washing machine's didn't sound so loud anymore. 

Hannibal stood before him, all six feet dressed in his normal attire except a suit jacket he had shed on his journey here. His white under shirt and black dress pants were splotched in blood, and it covered his face from his forehead to his jaw. He had a fat lip, and his knuckles were bruised different shades of black and purple. How weird it was that Hannibal had chosen this shop out of all the others, not knowing Will would be there. Perhaps he did know; Hannibal was cunning like that. Perhaps this was all part of his plan, now that Will thinks about it. 

It was strange of Will to hold any eye contact at all, especially with somebody he fancied so much, but he had always been better with Hannibal than others. Even so, this was going on too long. It felt like an eternity before Hannibal spoke. 

"I'm not going to lie to you and say that this was self defence, William, I'm sure you've figured as much." Hannibal's face never changed. It was expressionless but his eyes betrayed him. Was that amusement Will saw? Curiosity? Was Hannibal not worried that Will had just seen him this way, or was he interested in how Will might react in this situation? 

"Then what have you done, Doctor Lecter?" Will tightened his grip on his thigh holster momentarily, and Hannibal's eyes quickly shot down to his hand, and back up slowly. 

"I will not hurt you, dear Will, please relax." Will didn't know whether to believe him or not, but Hannibal had a way with words. He let his arms relax to his sides, but his hands were still balled up and clenched into fists. "May I please borrow a jacket, Will?" 

Will stumbled for a moment, mouth agape, and then turned around to reach into the dryer. He pulled out a navy hoodie, slightly oversized on himself but probably still too small for Doctor Lecter, and threw it over to him. Hannibal caught it in one hand, and wasted no time pulling it over his head. It took all Will had not to whimper when he saw the dashing psychiatrist in his hoodie like that, but he managed, and all that it left on his face was a scarlet blush from his jugular to his cheek bones.

“W-would you like to explain elsewhere?” Will asked, and Hannibal nodded, pulling the hood up over his face. Will quickly emptied the dryer of it’s contents, and pushed them back into his bag without folding. He really didn’t care if they had wrinkles, at this point, and to be honest he really didn’t care in the first place. He knew Hannibal would give him flack about it, but not right now. He followed the larger man out the door and to Will’s car, but Hannibal got in the driver’s seat. Will passed him the keys, and without a word they took off towards Hannibal’s house. 

“What do you think of me now in this moment?” 

Will’s eyes squinted as he stared at Hannibal. Was this a trick question? 

“Slightly worrying.” 

“Only slightly?” 

“I trust you.” The corner of Hannibal’s mouth turned up slightly into a smirk. 

“That isn’t a smart move, Will, life as you know it will change forever now that you know.” He turned to look at his companion in the passenger’s seat. Will had always looked innocent up until this point, but now he looked like a bear in a wooden cage. Would he stay loyal and ignorant, or would he break free?

“I don’t /know/ anything. You haven’t explained yourself yet, Doctor.” 

Hannibal turned the wheel, smirked, and continued. 

“You’ve always known, Will, but it is and was not my duty to tell you.” Will continued to stare out the window, only now his eyes grew wide with realization of Hannibal’s words.

“You’re the Ripper.” He slowly turned his gaze back to Hannibal’s, but this time he did not meet it. He did not smirk. He was stoic, like a statue. 

“Right you are.” It felt like an eternal drive, but Hannibal pulled into his driveway, and finally faced Will again. “Can I trust you as you trust me?” 

Will swallowed loudly, throat suddenly dry. “I trust you like a pet trusts it’s owners. I couldn’t imagine you see me that way.” 

“I don’t own you.” 

“Bull. That’s bull.” 

“You are free to do as you please, Will, but you do understand I would have to stop you if you disobeyed me.” 

“Disobey like a dog disobeys by not preforming the right trick?” 

Hannibal glared slightly at the smaller man, finally letting his emotions show. “Disobey like a lover who has found love in another.” 

Again, Will’s cheeks flushed brightly. “Is the FBI my mistress now?” He forced a smirk, and Hannibal threw back a sharp, toothy grin. 

“It depends, who you were loyal to first. Tell me, did I come first?” Will averted his eyes once again. 

“Always…” he mumbled low, like he didn’t want Hannibal to hear. Hannibal quickly left the car, and walked around to the other side to open Will’s door for him. He stepped out hesitantly, and time moved in slow motion in the walk from the car to the door. 

He walked into the front foyer, and sighed. He had seen this room a million times, and yet never before had he seen it like this. It was like a veil had been lifted, and everything was so clear now. He realized he had always known it was Hannibal, but he had it etched into his mind that it wasn’t. 

He wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck from behind. He tensed at first, but relaxed when Will rested his head between Hannibal’s shoulder blades. His hoodie was thick, but Will could still feel his muscles harden and relax under his face. 

“What have you done.” it came out as a question, but both knew it was rhetorical. Hannibal turned in Will’s embrace, and returned it. His arms laced tightly around the brunette’s ribs. 

“I haven’t calculated anything incorrectly, but when the time comes, will you join me?” 

Will knew what he meant. When they find out it’s him, when they figure out who the Chesapeake Ripper really is, their esteemed colleague, their associate, their friend, will he run away with him? Will knew the answer. He was in too deep already, but he was hesitant to tell him. 

“Of course.” He forced a smile, tears pricking at the edge of his vision, “I don’t have any other choice.” He laughed slightly; he didn’t know whether he was confused or elated. 

“You do have a choice. You could come with me, and leave this life forever, or you could forget about this. I would not hold it against you, beloved.” 

“No,” Will pulled away, “I don’t have any other choice.” He reached up higher and dug his fingers into the back of Hannibal’s head, pulling him down. Their lips met, and it didn’t feel like teenage romance, it didn’t feel like a romantic movie, it felt like kissing Death itself; it felt like kissing god.

It felt right.


End file.
